


Healing Thrawn

by Dreamforge



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Chiss (Star Wars), Chiss Ascendancy (Star Wars), Chiss Drama (Star Wars), Chiss Politics (Star Wars), Chiss Sex (Star Wars), Doctors & Physicians, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Therapy, Romance, Star Wars References, The ULTIMATE in hurt/comfort, Therapy, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 16,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28685694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamforge/pseuds/Dreamforge
Summary: General Ba'kif needed to recall Thrawn to the fleet - but would Thrawn be healed enough to help defend the Ascendancy? After his assault on the Vagaari pirates, Thrawn's body and mind were left broken. It takes the skills of a talented Chiss Healer to bring him back, solve the mystery as to what happened to him on his last mission and to remind him of what is worth fighting for.(occurs directly before page 9 of Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy: Chaos Rising)
Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	1. The Pain

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to be the ultimate in hurt/comfort stories with Thrawn. In real life I'm a Psychologist, so the therapies described in this story quite accurate for the treatment of PTSD and post-concussive syndrome (except the sex of course - that's a big no-no at work). Enjoy!
> 
> (to understand all the references in this story, it will really help if you've read Thrawn Ascendancy: Chaos Rising)

Thrawn bolted straight up, through cloudy vision he looked wildly around the sterile white room. 

“I told you we should have restrained him.” A voice scolded. 

“Just give him a second.” The other replied. 

Thrawn twisted his head in the direction of the sound. 

Too fast. 

A field of stars exploded into his vision. A bolt of pain lanced through his brain. His entire right arm seized in agony. The spinning started. He struggled valiantly against the darkness encroaching on his view, but ultimately lost his fight and slid back into the velvety hands of the abyss.


	2. The Voice

This time a voice came first. Softly drawing him towards it. Slowly he drifted in the abyss, closer to that voice. 

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” 

His eyes once again snapped open. He tried to sit up, but this time his effort was met with a warm hand pushing down on his solar plexus. 

“No, no, no.” It cooed. “Easy.” 

The warmth of the hand radiated outwards, causing his muscles to relax, his eyes to settle at half mast, his breathing to slow. He wanted to rail against it, but as the soft glow continued to spread, all at once, his resistance was sapped. 

His words lolled out of his mouth. “What… are you doing?” 

With effort, he forced his eyes open. His tension began to rise again. “Where… am I?”

His eyes finally obeyed his brain’s instructions and began to focus on the face above him. It was blue. With blue-black hair. And red eyes. Warm red eyes, radiating calmness. He felt the warmth of the hand on his chest pressing into his very being. His tension melted like frost submitting to the inevitability of the early morning sun.

“You are on Naporar. I am your Healer.” Her voice, a cool breeze drifting through his mind. “And that,” She continued. “Is enough for today.” 

Her hand pulled away and Thrawn slid back into the darkness. 

The colors came in drifting bursts. Silver glinting off the foreign ship’s console. Flashes of explosives. Wafts of burnt flesh. His burnt flesh. 

In his sleep, Thrawn’s body jerked again. The older healer glared at her junior. 

“Why do you insist on coddling him?” The Elder bit out. 

The junior took a deep breath in. She placed her hand on Thrawn’s forehead and exhaled with purpose. With her other hand she popped open a small canister of tava. The drug drifted into him and Thrawn’s twitching settled. 

“You waste your energy on him.” The Elder sneered.


	3. The Reality

“Let’s try that again.” The young healer cooed. “Gently this time. Open your eyes.” 

Thrawn slowly willed his eyes to open. They gradually began to focus on her face. Then on the room beyond her. Its dim features barely visible even to Chiss eyes. As he struggled to make out the details of the room, his pain started to swell. 

“Focus on me Mitth…raw…nuru…odo.” She guided. 

With each syllable of his name the pain ebbed lower. He focused on her face. 

“There.” Her lips pursed to a tight smile. “Better.” 

Thrawn reached for her hand and pulled it onto his chest. Even through the medical tunic, the warmth it radiated gave him the strength to speak. 

“How long?” He rasped. 

“Five standard days.” 

He pulled her hand harder into him and mumbled. “What… happened?” 

She paused thoughtfully. “You will remember. Give it time.” 

Despite the warmth from her hand, the pain began to resurface. He looked at his right arm. Blood was seeping through the bandages and the blackened edges of burnt flesh peeked out at him from under the gauze. The honeycomb form that caged his right hand refused to give as he fought to move even just a fingertip. He tried to remember what had happened to him, but the effort only brought in a dense fog that smothered his mind. His formerly brilliant, tactical mind wasn’t even able to recall the most basic of facts. Tears of pain and frustration filled the edges of his eyes. 

“I am broken.” 

“You are not broken.” She declared forcefully. 

Thrawn’s pain and frustration began to turn to wrath. “I cannot move. I cannot think.” His breath came in quick gasps but his rage was unrelenting. “I used to be strong. I used to be one of the Ascendency’s greatest tacticians and now,” His misery grew. It began to engulf him and he snarled. “I am reduced to this!” 

Her soft hands gently cradled his face, slowly turning his gaze to her. “You were not strong. You were untested.” The fire in her red eyes crackled and grew in intensity. “You will be healed. And then you will be proven. And that is a far greater strength.” 

He tried to move his head away from her, but for all their softness, her hands refused to yield. Their peaceful warmth radiated assurance through his body and seeped into his mind. The fog started to lift. The pain ebbed. A deep sigh flowed from within him. 

The light in her eyes settled back to comforting embers. “I am here. Focus on me. Mitth…raw…” 

Before she could even finish, his mind collapsed back into a swift and dreamless sleep.


	4. The Malace

When he woke again, he had no idea how much time had elapsed. From the edges of the curtains in the room he could make out the edges of dawn light creeping through the cracks. He struggled to make out the details of the room, seeing only blurry shapes. Then he spotted the young Healer resting in the corner. 

Thrawn’s voice that cut through the dimness of the room. “Why do you stay with me?” 

The Healer roused herself, unfolded her limbs from the small chair she was perched on and stretched. “It is procedure to stay with patients when there are stress injuries to the mind.” 

“I do not have such an injury.” Thrawn snapped. 

The corners of the young Healer’s mouth twisted up in a smile. “Really?” She lifted a small metal tray from the table beside her and let it drop back onto the surface. 

The clang it made echoed in Thrawn’s brain, causing splitting pain. That much was expected. But then his heart leapt into his throat. His breathing quickened so much he began gasping for air. His hands began to tremble. Images flashed into his mind. His right hand reaching to the console. A metal baton smashing down on his outstretched fingers. A timer counting down. Counting down to nothing. A bright flash. The air being sucked out his of lungs. He began to fall backwards into the memory, the images and sensations swallowing him whole. 

The Healer crossed the floor swiftly. She touched two fingers between his eyes. “Keep your head still and follow my hand with your eyes.” Her hand slowly moved away from his face and began rhythmically rocking side to side. 

With his head staying still, his eyes followed her hand. The images began to dissolve from his mind. His muscles softened. His heart rate slowed. He took a deep breath. She stopped moving her hand and his eyes became still again. 

For the first time he actually studied her face. She couldn’t have been much older than him. Her black-blue hair was tied back in a messy braid, leaving strands tumbling around her face. The redness of her eyes seemed to crackle and dance like the soft glow of fire. But the more closely he studied her, the more the throbbing in his head intensified until he couldn’t take it anymore. He pressed his left hand into his eyes to force them shut. To try to force the pain back down. It wasn’t working. 

She leaned even closer to him, one hand on his forehead and the other pressing gently but firmly on the back of his neck. But this time her hands were cool instead of warm. It reminded him of when he was young and he would hike the ice fields. After hours of exertion he would pull down his sweat-soaked hood, letting the icy breeze sweep away the ache and exhaustion of the day’s work. 

She drew her head close to his ear and whispered. “I am sorry. Your brain is not yet ready for your mind to be healed.” 

She leaned back again, keeping her hands on him. This time speaking more to herself than to him. “But I could not let you suffer.” 

The Elder Healer swept into the room. “You can. You just choose not to.” 

She turned to her Elder with a glare that bordered on insubordination. “I CHOSE not to let him suffer.” 

Thrawn strained his eyes to look up at the Elder. “What happened to me?” 

The Elder Healer turned her back and walked away from him. She grabbed at the curtains of the room and flung them open. The rising sunlight stung his eyes and stabbed into his brain. His whole body shuddered at the sudden intrusion. 

“You disobeyed direct orders to chase down that pirate and feed your own ego.” She continued around the room, casting the curtains aside, intensifying Thrawn’s misery with each one. “Then instead of facing the consequences of your actions, your friends in high places had you sent here and not to detainment. The Ruling Families want your head on a pike and I can’t say that I blame them.” 

She returned to Thrawn and whipped the blanket off him. “Now get up.” 

The younger Healer protested. “He’s not ready.” 

The Elder cut her down with a scowl. “At your rate, he won’t ever be ready.” Her scowl turned to Thrawn and ordered. “Get up. Now.” 

With great effort, Thrawn willed his legs to start to swing to the side of the bed. The dark bruises that carpeted his legs ached as they moved. He moved to stand, but instantly he felt his left knee give out under the pressure. The younger Healer leapt to his side, grabbing his arm to steady him and prevent him from falling. 

“I did NOT say that you could assist him.” The Elder snapped. 

The Elder crossed the floor to the younger. She grabbed the younger Healer’s forearm in a vise-grip and snatched it away from Thrawn’s arm. As soon as his source of balance was ripped away, Thrawn crashed to the ground. His right arm failing to protect his face as it smashed into the hard permacrete floor. A splash of blood gushed forth from his broken nose. Thrawn gritted his teeth and tried in vain to rise. He shifted his weight to protect his injured arm and use his left arm to lift himself off the floor. The muscles in his arm quivered in protest, then collapsed. The Elder Healer’s grip never leaving the younger’s arm as she watched Thrawn’s body slump once again into a bloody heap on the ground. 

“Not so brilliant and talented now - are we Senior Captain Mith’raw’nuruodo?” She spat out at him. “Without all your friends to protect you, you simply fall.” 

The Elder shoved the Younger Healer up against the wall and turned back to Thrawn. “And now you will have to learn how to get up without your friends to help you.” 

It took the better part of an hour for Thrawn to will his muscles into obedience. After what seemed like another hour he managed to claw his way back into the bed, dried streaks of blood marking his agonizingly slow progress. 

Once Thrawn dropped back on the bed, the Elder threw a towel on the floor and turned to the Younger Healer. She gestured at the floor and to Thrawn’s face. “Clean that mess up.” 

The Younger nodded obediently and the Elder swept out of the room, the door slamming behind her.


	5. The Evidence

For a long time, they both were silent. Thrawn recovering from the exhaustion of his effort, the young Healer seemingly frozen in place. 

Once Thrawn had recovered his breath, he spoke. “You clearly hold animosity towards your superior. You undoubtedly have different strategies for achieving your goals. Why do you not make it known to her?” 

The Healer stayed frozen in place. “It doesn’t matter. With family politics, it’s always the same. It doesn’t matter if it’s an Aristocra, a Syndic, even the Speaker. They only care about getting what they want. And if you get in the way, you get crushed.” 

Thrawn cocked his head. “A path that includes pain does not need to be avoided.” 

She remained still, only the slightest shaking of her head giving away what was going on inside. 

After a long silence, Thrawn closed his eyes. “You have never told me your name.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” She muttered. 

Thrawn shifted his weight to try to put less pressure on his right side. “Sometimes the details hold key to solutions.” 

“You don’t need to look hard for clues with that one. She’s an Iziri. She thinks all us Mitth are impulsive and brash.” 

Thrawn chuckled. “And I would imagine my most recent actions against the Vagaari Pirates have not done anything to counteract those beliefs.” 

The younger Healer rolled her eyes. “Obviously. And on top of that, the Iziri lost a significant amount of status when Ste-bonnef escaped.” 

“Then I would think they would have been grateful for my actions to secure his recapture.” 

The Healer started to soften a little. “Ar’alani wasn’t kidding when she said that you often miss the political subtleties of a situation.” 

“I am not sure what you are meaning.” 

She sighed. “If you would not have recaptured him, the Iziri could have claimed that he was so great of a Rodian Pirate that no Chiss could be expected to contain him.” 

“But with my recapture of him, they could no longer claim that.”

She nodded. “And by a member of the Mitth family no less. The height of insult.” 

“And now that he has been recaptured,” Thrawn continued. “he will also be able to testify to the Iziri’s failings that lead to his escape.” 

The Healer went silent. Confusion appeared on her face. Thrawn searched her body language for clues as to why this last statement had landed so far off the mark. 

She proceeded slowly. “I read the report of the recovery of Ste-bonnef’s ship. That’s one of the reasons why the Ruling Families are all so angry right now.” She searched for any sign of recognition on Thrawn’s face. Finding none, she hesitantly continued. “You executed Ste-bonnef when you boarded his ship.” 

Thrawn searched his memory. It was cloudy. He struggled to find the details of which she spoke. The pain rose up and made a blinding curtain that he could not peer through. He pushed as hard as he could, forcing himself to dive into the memories. Digging deeper and deeper but still finding himself no closer to any useful details. The memories were running backwards. The explosion. The timer. The baton smashing his hand. Lunging towards the control panel. Then back to the explosion. The timer. The baton smashing his hand. Lunging to the control panel. 

He started shaking his head. “That’s not possible.” 

The Healer was again hesitant. “He had a blaster bolt through his skull. You and Ste-bonnef were the only ones on that ship.” 

The explosion. The timer. The baton smashing his hand. Lunging towards the control panel. His legs being swept out from underneath him. 

Thrawn’s breathing came in quick gasps as his heart rate rose ever higher. The Healer started walking towards him. He pushed her away and kept shaking his head.

The explosion. The timer. The baton smashing his hand.

The explosion. The timer. The baton smashing his hand. The hand holding the baton. 

Thrawn bolted upright. “It was blue.” 

The Healer was beyond confused. “What was blue?” 

“The hand holding the baton. It was blue.” 

Her confusion persisted. “What does that mean?” 

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed. “Ste-bonnef is a Rodian, their species skin is green. The hand that held the weapon that did this,” Thrawn held up his smashed hand encased in the honeycomb cast. “was blue.” 

The Healer’s eyes widened in realization. “That means that we were not the only two on that ship?”

“Exactly.” 

She continued to work over the information in her mind. “Then who else was there?” 

Thrawn began to dig feverishly through his memory again. The explosion. The timer. The baton smashing his hand. The blue hand holding the baton. He strained to try to force his mind’s eye to follow the hand up the arm and to the face, but the mental fog rolled in once again and began to obscure the details. More senses began to intrude. The searing pain from his crushed hand. The acrid smell of blood in his nose. The shrill blaring of the ship’s alarms. The rasping spasms from his exhausted lungs being unable to draw enough breath. 

Sitting in the room, Thrawn’s world began to spin and his entire body began to shudder. His heart was beating so fast it felt like it would burst out of his chest. The muscles in his throat tightened their savage grip. He couldn’t breathe. His world began to close in on him. He frantically looked to the young Healer.

She locked eyes with him. “My name is Mitth’yi’acurador. Your name is Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” Her voice was firm, but almost melodic as it drew him back to this place. “You are on the planet Naporar. This smell,” She raised her arm so that her wrist was under his nose. “is the smell of the Aura Blossom flower.” 

Thrawn inhaled the scent deeply and it helped loosen the rigid grip on his throat. 

“You are here.” She slid her other hand under his medical tunic and placed it gently against the skin of his chest. The warmth began to radiate through him. “And you are safe.” 

Suddenly Thrawn felt very tired. He felt the gravitational pull drawing him into the bed, combined with the gentle pressure from her hand. He surrendered to the feeling. His head had barely touched the pillow when he felt the darkness surround him again. 

“Thyia…” He murmured. 

“Yes Thrawn.” She whispered back. “I am here.” 

And with that reassurance, he relinquished his hold on his awareness and drifted down into the lingering smell of the Aura Blossoms.


	6. The Scent

The stars were making their way across the sky when consciousness finally came back to him. Thyia was laying on the bed next to him, her hand nestled on his chest, still providing its soothing warmth. Her body was carefully laid next to his, deliberately ensuring enough space for his injured right side to remain untouched. The smell of the Aura Blossoms still drifting through the air. 

Despite the new injuries he had received from his recent encounter with the floor, his body felt more rested and restored than it had in days. His gaze drifted back to Thyia’s face as the delicate light of the stars made their way across her sculpted features. The soft curve of her nose. The way her lips parted slightly each time she exhaled. The warmth of her breath on his body amplifying the warmth of her hand. Which, in turn, radiated the comforting glow throughout his body. As he studied it more carefully, he noticed that her breathing was not easy. Each breath drawn in seemed to be an effort, each breath out an exhausted sigh. The features of her face did not betray any distressing dreams, or any other reason for the breathing pattern. His concern for her grew until he made the connection. 

He slowly lifted her hand off his chest and laid it against her body. As soon as the connection was broken, her breathing regained its normal cadence. With great effort her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze. 

“The healing you provide.” He swept a strand of hair out off her face and tucked it behind her ear. “It exhausts you.” 

She nodded. She shifted her weight and groggily began to sit up. “Yes. But I do it willingly.” 

She shifted again to try to make it easier to get up. With a quickness she did not know he was capable of, Thrawn’s strong grasp wrapped around her and pulled her back to lay next to him again. Her exhaustion was evident as she began to wilt against his strong grasp. His touch on her softened as she laid back down. 

“Rest. Healer Thyia. You have earned this moment of respite.” 

She did not have the will or the desire to resist him. With a deep breath she settled back next to him and quickly fell into a deep sleep. 

That entire night Thrawn did not sleep. Between the energy given to him by Thyia and the threads of information that flitted across his mind, sleep remained elusive until the light returned to the morning sky.


	7. The Question

Once he heard the rustling of the facility workers beginning their morning routine, he dared venture to wake Thyia. 

He gently roused her. “Why does the other healer wish my recovery take a faster course than the one you have me set upon?” 

Thyia blinked the sleep from her eyes. “You’re a Mitth. She doesn’t care if steps are rushed or skipped in the path of your recovery, as long as it takes you away from her.” 

“What is the risk if the steps are expedited or omitted entirely?” Thrawn inquired. 

Thyia sat up and stretched. “There risk is that it would create gaps in the healing.” 

She stood and crossed the floor to the drawers that held the dressing changes for his wounds. Thyia spoke again over her shoulder. “Pieces that once healed incorrectly, could never be fully recovered in the future.” 

Thawn contemplated for a moment as Thyia returned with the bandages. 

“I’m sorry.” She stated. “This will likely hurt.” 

As she began to remove the old bandages Thrawn tried to suppress the pangs of agony that bit into his flesh, but his body betrayed him and he twitched reflexively each time the bandages snagged on his burnt skin and then tore themselves free.

The flinches were not lost on Thyia. “I am sorry that we do not have any medication for the pain.” 

He smiled wryly at her. “As I said, not all paths that include pain need be avoided. If the pain is inevitable, then for a warrior, fighting it becomes part of the path.” 

Thrawn tried to remain calm, ignoring as much of the pain as possible as she continued to remove the old bandages.

She smirked. “Well, I am a healer, not a warrior.” 

He locked eyes with her boldly. “I am a soldier, you are a healer. Never confuse what you do for who you are.” 

A particularly large piece of skin adhered to the bandage jerked free from his flesh. He broke his gaze as he sucked in a breath. It brought him back to his original line of questioning. “What is the physical risk if pieces do not heal correctly?” 

Thyia quickly and efficiently finished unwrapping his shoulder and arm and turned her attention to opening the honeycomb cast. “There could be scarring of the skin, leading to disfigurement. Bones could heal out of place, leading to stiffness or restricted range of motion.” 

She deftly moved her fingers along his thumb, then each of his fingers. She stopped at one of the fingers, grasped the end of it and gave it a quick jerk. It made a small popping sound and Thrawn involuntarily gasped. 

He flared his nostrils and regained his composure. “I can’t imagine the senior healer has a great deal of concern for me retaining my handsome good looks.” 

Thyia stopped momentarily and looked at him. “Did you just make a joke?” 

He smiled in return. “You do not find me handsome?” 

She blushed and returned to her work. Her fingers flowing over his hand until it met with her satisfaction and she returned the honeycomb to its closed position. Then she pulled a small device out of her pocket, turned it on and placed it on his collarbone. As she slowly twisted the device against his skin, he felt the disconcerting sensation of his bones grinding up against one another. It did not cause pain, but Thyia was easily able to read the apprehension on his face. 

She stopped for a moment. Sometimes explaining procedures to patients helped them feel more at ease. “When you first arrived, I determined that a portion of your collarbone was shattered. The standard treatment is to remove the decaying bone and use ceramic cement to adhere the remaining bones together. But with that method there is a risk of limited range of motion in the future and the potential for a weakening at the site of the cement which would make the bone more likely to refracture. So, I chose this strategy instead.” 

Thrawn was fascinated by the mixture of assurance and confidence that she spoke with. She seemed to treat her healing work with the same approach he had with tactics in war. “And what strategy was that?”

Her hand wandered to a fresh scar just under his collarbone. “I removed the shattered bone, and inserted tiny filaments of iron when I reconnected the bones. I use this magnet to make slight adjustments to the bones to encourage them to grow apart. Slowly, over time, the bone is regrown to its original form, but stronger.” 

“Your strategy clearly shows tactical advantages. Why is it not the standard treatment?” 

“Many find the materials too difficult to work with. Others find it too labour intensive. And it is different from what we were trained to do. And innovation is rarely rewarded.” She retrieved a small tube of cream and began to apply it to the burns on his arm. 

He smiled thinly. “Then I see that our struggles have more in common that I would have first assumed.” 

The coolness of the salve and the warmth of her hands running themselves over his arm and shoulder lulled him into relaxation. He fought against it to even remember his original line of questioning. He hated how the fog in his mind made him susceptible to distractions when he was trying to gather information about a problem. He struggled to remember why the Elder Healer would want to speed his treatment progress. With great effort, he was able to draw his mind back into focus again. 

“What is the mental risk if I do not heal properly?” He continued. 

Her hands continued to smooth the healing salve over his skin as she moved across his body with skilled precision. “With injuries to the brain and mind such as yours, that would risk intermittent headaches and dizziness, which may prevent you from returning to your military career. It may impair your concentration, which Ar’alani was quite concerned would reduce the assistance that you are able to provide the Ascendency with your skills of deduction.” 

She finished and began to reapply the bandages. “It may impair your memory, which would result in being unable to retain new information or in details of memories being lost.” 

Thyia stopped. 

“What is it?” Thrawn enquired. 

Thyia remained still. Seemingly trapped in thought. When she spoke, it was deliberate and calculated. “Rushing a recovery such as yours all but guarantees that the details in the memories of the trauma will be lost. But why would she want that?”

Thrawn was making his own calculations as she spoke. “Perhaps she knows something that you or I do not.” 

A hardness surfaced in Thyia’s eyes. “Something that you do not remember.” She continued to wrap the bandages securely in place. “Yet.”


	8. The Turn

Under Thyia’s diligent care, Thrawn’s physical injuries had begun to heal quickly. His burnt and bruised skin was almost entirely repaired. His legs were swiftly regaining their former strength. His hand was even beginning to respond to Thyia’s gentle manipulations to bend or straighten as it no longer needed it’s cast. 

The progress of his brain was considerably slower. Despite Thyia’s carefully worded guidance, when doing his mental exercises Thrawn continually overstepped his capacities and the mental fog would come crushing back. He became more pessimistic about his capacity to regain his tactical abilities. Thyia continually reminded him to be patient, that these exercises were just standard procedures. She reassured him that his mind would respond better when he was presented with something meaningful to him, as compared to the exercises. She would tell him, “If the motivation is strong enough, the body will respond.” 

Regardless of her repeated calls for patient and slow progress, he continued to strain himself. One day he had overdone it so severely that she had needed to spend the night sleeping next to him with each of her hands on either side of his head in order to stabilize the damage he had done during the day. 

She had disappeared for a number of hours that morning after the sun rose and now Thrawn began to worry that perhaps she had become too exhausted or that she had been reassigned. He decided it was best to rest and silently, apprehensively await his next steps. 

It made his surprise all the greater when she reappeared in his room later that morning, holding a number of large art canvasses under her arm. She set them down and turned to him. 

“Today, we’re going to try something a little different.” She announced. 

“I am intrigued.” Thrawn admitted, sitting up and brightening significantly. 

She turned one of the paintings around to show the beautiful work of art on the other side. “Tell me about this.” 

Thrawn looked at the work. At first glance, it appeared to be just a black canvas with white stars painted on it. He tried to focus, but the fog quickly returned to his mind. He redoubled his effort, not wanting to disappoint her. But the harder he pushed, the more the information eluded him. His frustration began to get the better of him. With the frustration came the pain. Through his life he had grown accustom to pain and had been able to will his way past it. Now, when he tried to force himself to push past it, a jagged, icy bolt shot through his vision. The suddenness and ferocity of it knocked the wind out of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, but received no respite. 

“Don’t try to think harder,” She chided. “try to come at the information from different angles.” 

The soft lulling of her voice helped him to edge away from the silent anguish behind his eyes. 

“Think of the first time you saw the stars.” She counseled. 

The fog behind his eyes gradually began to drift apart. First at the center of his mind’s eye, revealing just the darkness. Then the faint light of stars twinkled into view. The fog continued to recede and he saw the snow fields that surrounded him, draped by a blanket of stars. “Come inside!” A strong matronly voice called. He saw a four-year-old girl dash through the snow, towards the voice, calling to him. “Come on Vurawn!” He caught the edge of his reflection, that of a child only two years old. The reflection began to ripple, then fade. 

“And now,” Thyia continued. “Open your eyes. Don’t focus on the details. Don’t force anything. Just let your mind observe it.” 

He gingerly opened his eyes. Then he loosened the hold on his mind and allowed it to delve deeper into the work. The fog steadily began to lift. It became clear that the work was not one large star field, but actually divided into 9 quadrants. When he permitted his consciousness the freedom to see the star pattern more fluidly, he saw that the star fields in each of the quadrants was the same set of stars, but arranged from a different perspective. Then he saw the distinct star in each of the quadrants. It was Csilla. It all became clear. 

“This is a work from the artist Mitth’inan’arfyste.” 

Thyia smiled. “Good. And what does it tell you about him?” 

Thrawn strained to prevent himself from grasping the information drifting through his mind too tightly. He allowed the information to float through his thoughts, the words tumbling out of his mouth like water. “That… he sees cosmos from the perspective from each of the Nine Ruling Families… each perspective taking a different strategy, but is also able to draw together the similarities into one work that can be observed by one person if they are willing to see the patterns.” 

Her smile widened. “Well done.” 

Thrawn had never needed the approval of others, but given the impasse he had been experiencing and seeing the genuine joy on her face at his progress, her smiled warmed him. 

She turned over another canvas and set it next to the previous piece of art. The new canvas was awash in color and stark lines slashing across its surface. “Tell me about this one.” 

Emboldened by his progress, Thrawn carefully rose from the bed and hobbled closer to examine the new canvas. This one was more complicated. There were rich and vibrant colors flowing across the canvas in deep, undulating lines. The lines that he had observed from afar were now clearly carved into the surface of the colors. The channels were then filled with absorbing black pigment, all beginning at the top of the canvas before wending their way down to the bottom. Whenever the fog threatened to seep back in, he would allow his mind the freedom to wander across the art, passively drinking it in. The answer came much more quickly this time. 

“This is the work from the artist Iziri’ayr’arfyste.” 

The pride in Thyia’s face was evident. “And what does it tell you about him?” 

Thrawn straightened up and looked at Thyia. His confidence growing with each new step in his progress. “That she is from the Iziri family, that she can at once appreciate the richness and diversity of existence, but that structure and order are required to be imposed on that diversity through strength and uniformity.” 

Thrawn reached forward and took Thyia’s hand. He guided it across one of the black lines whose edge cut into the colors beneath it. His hand rested atop hers, directing her fingers to where the lines and curves met and the colors dove below the dark line. 

“The artist also used the dimension of the medium to highlight the risk of this imposition to damage the inherent beauty it is seeking to strengthen.” 

Her gaze met his as she did not remove her hand. “You can see all that?” 

He looked back at her. His red eyes glittering. “When the fog lifts, I can see it all.” 

She blushed again and looked away, breaking the connection he had with her hand. 

She took a deep breath and turned over the last painting. “Tell me about this one.” 

Thrawn moved to stand in front of the final work. There was a small bowl overflowing with flowers at the bottom of the canvas. The bowl had been broken, but had been repaired with iron to once again take its traditional shape. Jagged lines and darkness stabbed down from above, but a soft light radiated from the flowers, robbing the darkness of its power to crush their delicate blooms. Thrawn puzzled over the work. He took a deep breath and let his mind simply observe. Then once again it became clear. 

“This is your work.” 

An inviting smile crept across the edges of Thyia’s lips. “And what does it tell you about me?” 

Thrawn took a step closer to her. “The artist is able to feel the crushing weight of the world, a weight that can force beautiful and fragile things to collapse into submission. But despite this, she sees the value in repairing the fractures created by life with something stronger than what was there before.” 

Thrawn took her hand in his again. “And then she sees the possibilities of basking in the light of all the great things that can come from that.” 

She looked down at their intertwined fingers and whispered. “How did you know it was mine?”

“Those flowers are Aura Blossoms. Their bioluminescence and can bring light to the darkest of places. And it is said that their scent can guide lost travellers back home." 

Thrawn slowly leaned in to Thyia and pressed his lips gently against hers. Instantly he was lost in a sea of warmth. She began to wrap her arms around him in a passionate embrace. They were at once both lost and found. As she continued to explore his body with her hands, their lips intertwined. He put his hand behind her and pulled her even tighter to him. He felt a greedy need for her begin to grow within him, but then she forced herself to pull away from him. 

“I think that’s enough for today.” She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and smiled. “We wouldn’t want to overdo it.”


	9. The Water

The nightmares became more frightful and merciless at night. At least when Thrawn was able to rest during the day, it was a more passive sleep that was entirely dreamless or at most only had fleeting glimpses of dread. At night they became vicious. Whenever he lost his battle against sleep and lapsed into unconsciousness he was trapped back on that inescapable treadmill. 

The explosion. The timer. The baton smashing his hand. The hand holding the baton. 

And each time he tried to raise his sights to see who was wielding the baton, the pain would split through his head and the scene would start again, running backwards through time over and over again. 

As he had been progressing in his healing, the Elder Healer had forbade Thyia from remaining with Thrawn through the night. Thyia had wanted to remain with him, but she dared not refuse her orders, for fear of the Elder Healer’s taking even more aggressive steps to impede Thrawn’s progress.

And the less sleep he got, the more slowly his recovery progressed. The more the fog returned. The more he jumped at even the smallest reminder of his battle on Ste-bonnef’s ship. The sharp jangle of clattering metal, the shrill beeps of monitors from other rooms, bright lights suddenly coming into view. They all sent his body into a frenzy of alarm and confusion. His throat tightening, his heart thrashing within his chest, his body trembling. Without Thyia’s guidance to stop it, he fell deeper and deeper into the abyss of his mind. 

That morning when she returned, she found Thrawn sitting on the floor in the corner of his room, his head buried in his knees and his body drenched with sweat. When she reached out to him, his body recoiled from her touch. 

She persisted, placing her hand firmly on his shoulder. “I’m here now Thrawn.” 

He didn’t look up. He just started to shake his head, which trickled down his body until his whole frame was shaking. 

Thyia gripped his shoulder tighter and noticed his skin was icy cold. “Thrawn, you’re freezing.” 

She deftly slid her body under his left arm and used a strength Thrawn did not know he possessed to lift him into standing. He continued to lean on her for support, unable to bear his own weight. They staggered together to the refresher on the opposite side of his room. 

With her free hand, she turned on the shower to release the spray of warm water. “We need to get you warmed up.” She tested the water with her hand to make sure that it would not scald him. Once it met with her approval, she nimbly rotated him until he was standing on his own in the shower, leaning heavily on the side of the wall. 

The warm water began to penetrate Thrawn’s soaked tunic and the warmth began to thaw his frigid skin. Thyia’s skilled hands worked their way over his torso to remove the sopping wet tunic. She wrung out the water and turned to hang it over a railing next to the shower. As the heat continued to permeate Thrawn’s body, his muscles began to soften and his balance began to give way. 

In a heartbeat, Thyia leapt into the shower and was once again by his side. In order to keep him from falling, she had to grab him somewhat awkwardly, hugging him around his torso. Thrawn was able to steady himself slightly. The feeling of her warm, wet chest pressed against his made him feel a bit lightheaded. As she continued to grip him, her healing touch was filling him with calmness and security. The fog once again began to lift and he felt stronger, more like himself. 

Once Thyia felt that he was able to hold his own weight, she slackened her grip slightly. “Are you alright?” 

He looked down at her wet hair matted against her forehead. The burning embers of her red eyes flickering back up at him. 

“I am better than alright.” He moved with his free hand to brush the stray strands of wet hair out of her face. 

She paused, looking back up at him. She had felt a magnetic pull to him from the first moment she had laid eyes on him. Initially she had dismissed it as a school-girl crush on a ‘famous’ senior officer. But the more time she had spent with him the more she recognized the connection they shared. She wanted him. She wanted more of him. But she caught herself. 

Thyia looked down at her scrubs. “I’m soaking wet.” 

Thrawn would not be denied any longer. “Then let me help you with that.” 

In a second, he used his free hand to lift her shirt up and over her head, his other hand pressing her naked chest into his. 

The electricity they both felt between them was undeniable. She instantly dove onto his mouth and began to devour him. Her kiss was ravenous and he hungrily returned her passion. His right hand slid between them and began to palm her slick breasts. She arched as he found her nipple and rolled it gently between his fingers. 

Thyia gasped and broke the lock of their lips. “I see that your dexterity is improving.” She panted. 

He eyed her greedily. “You have no idea.” 

He worked his mouth down from her chin, to her neck, to her chest. He scooped one of her nipples into his mouth and she gasped again. His hands slid down from her chest and began to slowly work the waistband of her soaking wet pants over her backside and down her legs. He lingered on her muscular backside and began to massage her firm muscles, exploring her with his hands. She wrapped a leg around his waist to provide him easier access to her with his fingers. He did not miss the invitation as he explored deeper. His fingers were almost frantic as searched her body until they found their prize. He wasted no time parting her soft folds and plunging his fingers deep inside her. Her breathing took on a sharp, raspy quality as he assaulted her with his hand. He methodically slid his digits in and out, causing her to shudder with pleasure. Through her quaking, she struggled with his pants until she was able to slough them off to the floor of the shower. He gathered up her face and pulled her towards him in a rough kiss. 

She pulled herself away for a moment. “Are you sure you are strong enough to do this?” 

He refused to be dissuaded and echoed her earlier words back to her. “If the motivation is strong enough, the body will respond.” 

He lifted both of her legs off the floor of the shower as she wrapped herself around him. She locked eyes with him, silently urging him forward. And with that acknowledgement, he plunged his full length into her all at once. Her grasp on him suddenly tightened as she cried out in satisfaction. His hips drove forward, seeking an ever deeper hold inside of her. Between the physical sensation and the warmth of her flesh against his, Thrawn felt like the world could end in that very moment and he would be content. Finally at his full depth, he gently rocked himself back and forth inside of her. Thyia sighed and allowed the bliss to wash over her body, accentuated by the warm water flowing over their intertwined figures. His fingers travelled downwards, pleasuring her water-slickened clit as he continued to heave ever deeper inside of her. Her body began to shake as his motions drew her into the whirlpool of climax. She was finally engulfed by the sensations and every muscle in her body clenched, absorbing the sensations rocketing through her body. Feeling her sudden tightness, Thrawn knew he could not control himself any longer. A deep growl emanated from his very being as the waves of pleasure arced through him. He trembled as he lost control. He drove as far as he could, the rolling surge of ultimate satisfaction ebbing and flowing through him as he released himself deep inside of her. 

They reminded locked in that embrace, both desperate to drink in every last ounce of fulfillment before it was washed away. Thyia began to feel the muscles in Thrawn’s legs start to quiver. She adeptly unwrapped her legs from his waist, using her firm base to help hold him upright. Despite his best efforts, the exhaustion began to sap his resilience. The warmth of the water cascading over him began to liquify his muscles as he slumped into her supportive frame. 

Thyia smiled a sly grin. “I guess we got you warmed up.”


	10. The Blood

She turned off the water and gingerly set him down on the tile floor. After pulling on a robe, she helped him to dry off. Moments later she had him dressed in a dry tunic and back into his bed. She retrieved a blanket from the warming box and wrapped him in it tightly so that he could savour its radiating heat. 

Once she was satisfied he was taken care of, her face turned stern. “How many nightmares did you have last night?” 

“It is always the same, so it depends if you count it as one nightmare or many.” He replied dismissively. 

Her stern face stiffened. “Are they getting worse?” 

He looked away. “More vivid, yes. But never any more details.” 

“And the nervous system activations? With sounds or light?” She queried further. 

The shame bit into him as he tried to turn himself further from her. “worse.” 

She sat on the edge of his bed. “There is nothing to be ashamed of Thrawn. Those activations are the same reactions that kept you alive on that ship. They just don’t know that you’re here,” She placed a reassuring hand on his leg through the blanket. “that you’re safe now.” 

Thyia was silent as she kept her hand on Thrawn’s thigh. She fixated on him, willing her healing warmth to propel the feeling of security through his body. 

As if on cue, The Elder Healer walked past the door of Thrawn’s room. She stopped what she was doing immediately and stormed into the room. 

“Healer Mitth’yi’acurador!” She bellowed. “WHY ARE YOU SOAKING WET?!” 

Thyia’s hair was still dripping water onto her robe. There was no hiding it. She gritted her teeth. “fighting becomes part of the path” She whispered to herself. 

Thyia rose from the bed and turned her wrath on the Elder Healer. “This morning he was soaked with sweat and freezing! I had to carry him into the refresher to prevent him from succumbing to hypothermia! Because of your NEGLIGENCE he is suffering!” 

With each phrase she stomped closer to her Elder. “I REFUSE to allow family politics to dictate how I perform my work any longer!” 

The Elder snarled and stood fast. “You know nothing of what you speak. The consequences of your actions caring for Senior Captain Mitth’raw’nuruodo are far beyond your understanding.” The Elder healer glared down her nose at Thyia. “A young healer such as yourself has no place wading into family politics.” 

The fire returned to Thyia’s eyes and was forged into iron determination. “Your family may be powerful, but mine is as well.”

Thyia drew herself taller and stared the Elder down. “I am Mitth by Blood. An Iziri Trial-Born holds no sway over me.” 

The Elder sneered. Thyia glared hard at her Elder. The Elder broke first and in a huff stormed away. 

Even from his bed, Thrawn could feel the heat radiating off Thyia. She slammed the door and leaned back on it, her previous energy draining from her. 

Thrawn had an air of reverence as he spoke. “I have never met a full Blood Mitth before.” 

Thyia sighed, deflating even further. “Don’t be impressed. They see me only as damaged. A waste of potential. And I bring no honor to the family by being a simple healer.” Thyia slid her back down the door until she reached the floor. “Thurfian was right.” 

With great effort, Thrawn slid off the blanket and rose to his feet. “You are far from simple Mitth’yi’acurador.” With stilted but determined steps, he moved to her. “You heal with strategy. The Mitth family is built on strategy. But sometimes even they fail to see how the smallest of details can come together to change the outcome of the whole.” 

He reached where she sat and gingerly knelt down in front of her. He winced as he put weight on his left knee, but was undeterred. “Like with your art, you see things differently. Your results speak for themselves.” 

She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze, the fire in her eyes brought low. “How so?” 

He held her face delicately in his hands and kissed her tenderly. He then pressed his forehead against hers as he spoke. “Stronger for having been broken.”


	11. The Proof

“Are you ready?” Thyia asked. 

Thrawn sat up as straight as he could. “I believe you have prepared me as best as you can. I wish to begin before we may be interrupted.” 

Thyia breathed deeply. She raised her hand so it was arms-length from Thrawn’s face, his eyes centered on it. 

She began. “I want you to go to the beginning, watch what you mind shows you and follow my hand.” 

Thrawn had been intensely sceptical about this treatment. He failed to see how simply thinking about what happened while watching her hand move would improve the symptoms plaguing his mind. But he trusted her, and so he also took a deep breath and began to watch her hand move. 

To his surprise, as his eyes moved back and forth, the world seemed to fall away and his mind was consumed by the memory. He was standing on the bridge of Ste-bonnef’s ship. He smelled the musty cargo containers on the floor. He felt the breeze from the ship’s air exchange system brush against his cheek. He turned to see Ste-bonnef shackled and on his knees at the back of the small bridge. His hand flew over the controls as he input the course to take them back to the Valiant. As soon as the coordinates had been entered, he felt the breeze again, but this time stronger than before. Again he turned to see Ste-bonnef, but behind the surrendered pirate there was a shadowy blue figure entering the bridge, it’s face obscured by the mist coming off the ship’s forward compressor. Instantly his heart rate jumped, his breath strangled in his throat, every muscle in his body began to scream. 

Thyia snapped her fingers. “And take a deep breath.” 

Instantly he was back in her presence, almost disoriented at the sudden change. 

“What did you feel in your body?” 

He grasped for details in his mind. “I couldn’t breathe.” 

“Any emotion?” 

He stilled. “Confusion.” 

“Alright.” She continued. “Now I want you to focus on those feelings and emotions. But now I want you to visualize a place where you can breathe easily and where uncertain things become clear.” 

Thrawn nodded his head and her hand began rhythmically moving back and forth again. 

And in an instant, he was standing at the center of the largest exhibition room at Csilla’s finest art gallery. The air was cool and crisp. His lungs took in expansive breaths as he beheld the gorgeous art laid out before him. Splashes of color, stark contrasts, interplay of light and shadow. As he looked at each piece, he was able to clearly see the artists’ intention and how it told a story about their perspective, their culture, their tactics. The information was crystal clear in his mind and he was able to move through it like a light breeze.

Thyia drew her hand to a stop. “What do you feel now?” 

To Thrawn’s amazement, all the negative body sensations he had been feeling had been drained away and replaced with a crystalline calm that he rarely experienced. 

He stared at her in amazement. “This is very strange.” 

Thyia smiled. “Yes. Strange, but effective.” 

Her hand began to move again. “Go back to the beginning and watch again. But this time notice any differences.” 

He was back on the bridge of the ship. But now the intrusive smells and sensations were gone. Ste-bonnef on his knees, himself keying the coordinates into the navigational system. He smoothly and calmly turned to see the shadowy blue figure standing behind the kneeling Ste-bonnef. As he watched, the figure raised a blaster and executed the pirate. One bolt through the skull. He strained to see the figure’s face, but the fog stubbornly refused to lift. 

Thrawn started to shake with frustration. “I still can’t see his face.” 

Undaunted, Thyia continued moving her hand to keep Thrawn inside the visualization in his mind. “Don’t push harder. You can’t grab smoke with your hands. Relax. See it from a different perspective.” 

Back on the ship, Thrawn let go of his tight grip on his mind. His perspective and awareness began to shift outside his body. He was able to observe the scene, walk around it like it was just another piece of art. The green of the Rodian’s skin, the bloody red streak on the ground in front of the pirate’s body, just splashes of color. The stark contrasts of the blackness outside the viewport with the gleaming silver controls on the bridge. The dark figure shrouded in mist, just an interplay of light and shadow. He revolved around the intruder, like he would walk around a sculpture. The pattern of light and shadow revealed in the intruder’s form was draped in a Chiss officer’s battle uniform. As the sculpture began to move towards the navigation console, the face appeared out of the mist. 

Thrawn’s whole body jerked and instantly snapped him out of it. “I need to warn Ar’alani.” He panted desperately. 

He began to stand, to bolt for the door, to warn the Admiral. Thyia forcefully grabbed his shoulders and jammed him back down. “No. We are not finished.” 

Thrawn was frantic and his movements erratic. “I have to! She needs to know! Ensign Irizi’ana’lonor is a--” 

Thyia locked eyes with Thrawn and brought her face close to his. She whispered sternly, “She already knows. That is not the piece of information she needs from you.” 

Thrawn still resisted. “But…” 

Thyia raised her hand again. “Put that aside. What sensations did you feel?” 

Thrawn was still out of breath, his mind still muddled. “I guess… agitated?” 

Her hand began to methodically rock back and forth once more. “Feel the agitation in your body and see it melting away.” 

As soon as he began to follow her hand, he was magnetically pulled back into his mind. He remembered when he first awoke and felt the warmth of Thyia’s hand on his chest. Melting his agitation with its soft, warm glow. He breathed deeply and felt all of the anxiety leave his body. 

“Good.” Thyia soothed. “Now go to where you left off on the ship and continue.” 

In his mind he slipped away from the tranquil feeling and back onto the bridge. The figure lunged towards him. He tried to land a blow on the intruder, but his legs were knocked out from under him as he swung. He landed hard on the side of the console, his collar bone cracking into the hard edge, the bones giving way under the force of his fall. 

He felt a sharp thud as a baton smashed into his back and shoulder, driving him into the ground. The pain began to swell, but the adrenalin held it at bay. Thrawn kicked out with his left leg, connecting with the infiltrator’s shin. The intruder swore in Chenuh and brought the baton down on Thrawn’s knee. The joint strained under the power of the blow. The attacker stepped over him and made his way to the controls. 

Thrawn shook off the pain wracking his body and began to rise. He was met with two sharp blows to the back of his head. The world spun and once again he crashed to the deck of the ship. The fog started to crowd his vision. He heard the navigation system accept new coordinates and the ship start to turn and accelerate. The infiltrator walked to the back of the bridge. Thrawn’s fingers fumbled on his belt. He first keyed his emergency distress beacon. His fingers then continued to fumble, sluggish to his commands, until found what he was looking for. He launched up off the ground and slammed the timed explosive charge against the top of the bridge controls. Bracing himself on the console to steady himself, his right hand began to key the navigational system to determine the coordinates the intruder had input into the system. He needed to find out the information in time to dive back below the control board before the timer went off. He heard his attacker coming up behind him. Into a perfect position to be caught by the explosives. But then the baton came crashing down on his right hand, shattering the bones and causing incendiary pain to race up his arm. He turned to face the intruder, attempting to grab his’ foe’s weapon. But with only one hand, he was no match. The attacker landed blows on his ribs and Thrawn’s grip on his assailant’s weapon hand loosened. The baton was raised once again when Thrawn spied the explosive’s timer counting down. Counting down to nothing. Thrawn turned to his side as he knew what was coming. A bright flash. The air being sucked out of his lungs. Falling backwards onto the cold durasteel deck of the ship. The atmosphere of the ship slowly seeping out of the crack in the viewport. Thrawn was fighting against the dark fog that was rapidly encroaching on his consciousness. He took a long blink that could have been a second, or could have been an hour. 

Thrawn fought back against the darkness and turned his head to see where his attacker fell. His foe had taken the brunt of the explosion, turning him into a smoking hulk. The darkness began to win again when he heard a voice. “What have you done?” It scolded. Thrawn was sure the voice was scolding him, but as he opened his eyes he saw a Chiss woman standing over the intruder. With great effort, she dragged the body out of the bridge. Out of Thrawn’s view. He tried to turn his head to follow and see her face, but an icy bolt of pain shot through his brain. 

Thyia slowed her hand once more to bring him back. “What did you feel in your body?” 

He blinked hard as he was able to focus on the room again. “Pain. Cold.” 

Thyia started to move her hand again. “Let the ship go, notice the pain, and see what your mind wants to do it with it.” 

Thrawn closed his eyes. He felt the splitting, icy pain in his head. Then and when he opened them again, he was back on Rentor, his childhood home. He was in the snowfield with his sister. She had just thrown a snowball into his face, the frozen shards of snow still plastered to his head. He wiped the snow from his eyes and heard his mother’s voice behind him. “Now you throw one at her.” She encouraged. He smiled, picked up one of the snowballs off the ground and haphazardly threw it at his five-year-old sister. It hit her in the leg, “Oh no! You got me!” she pretend howled. She lifted another ball off the ground and lofted it towards him, hitting him in the chest as he picked up the next snowball. A mischievous gleam came to his eyes. He dropped his snowball on the ground and began to walk away, carving a large half circle in the snow as he toddled around behind her. “He must want a break from that game.” He heard his mother say. “Let’s make a snow sculpture instead.” His ears pricked up at the idea, but he was undeterred as he went on his mission. Ignored by his sister, he wandered behind her, grabbed a snowball off the ground and swiftly stuck it down the back of her jacket. She howled for real this time, then her anger diffused into laughter as she grabbed a snowball and shoved it down the back of his jacket. The young Thrawn’s feelings of cold and pain morphed into laughter as they played together in the snow. 

Thyia stopped her hand. “Did the feeling change?” 

Thrawn was once again bewildered. “Yes. The pain and the cold remained, but now it feels different.” 

“Excellent.” Thyia declared. “Now go back to the ship and see what looks different.”

Thrawn began to follow the rhythmic movements of her hand. The room dissolved before him and his attacker’s ally was standing over him. The darkness had abated and the fog of the pain dissipated. Suddenly he was able to see it all. He heard his voice croak, “…Syndic Mitth’ala’ianaco…?”. She glared hard at him. “I warned you to keep the Mitth family away from the Vaagari pirate operations. Your lack of tactical ability with family politics was always going to be your downfall Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” She growled. “But don’t worry. Your legacy will still bring honor to the Mitth family by bringing this chapter to a close. It is such as shame that you were killed by the pirate Ste-bonnef on your final heroic mission.” She leveled her blaster at Thrawn and pressed it into his skull. Her finger began to take up the slack on the trigger when the bridge comms lit up. “Unknown ship, this is Admiral Ar’alani.” The voice boomed. “Prepare to be boarded.” Mitth’ala’ianaco snarled in anger and scurried off the bridge to escape with the body of her compatriot. Thrawn felt the whoosh as the air pressure changed, heard the blaring of the ship’s alarms as the hull was breached and the sensed the vibration of heavy footsteps as the boarding party advanced into the bridge. 

Thyia lowered her hand once more. “Did anything look different?” 

Thrawn nodded. “Yes. And I need to open a secure communication channel to Admiral Ar’alani. I believe I now possess some information that she will find valuable.” 

“That sounds more like the renowned Senior Captain Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” Thyia smiled and it spread across her face. “As soon as you are finished speaking to the Admiral, I trust you will return so we can finish our session?” 

Thrawn took her hand by the palm and kissed it. “Of course, Healer Mitth’yi’acurador. I would never prevent an artist from completing their masterwork.”


	12. The Resolution

“Deep breath.” Thyia said as she lowered her hand. Thrawn’s conversation with Admiral Ar’alani had been brief and Thrawn had returned to resume the work. Now nearing the final steps of the process, the sun hung low in the sky. 

“And now,” Thyia raised her hand to moved back and forth in front of Thrawn’s eyes. “For this last set of eye movements, see it as you wish to see it.” 

With a smile Thrawn eagerly delved into his mind. First he heard the soft echo of his footsteps on the polished stone floor, then he felt the fresh stillness of the air inside the art gallery. The white walls providing stark contrasts to the art that hung there. 

He walked past the first piece and saw it was a rough line drawing of him entering Ste-bonnef’s ship. He paused, surveying the details of the medium, judging the quality of the work. The coarse strikes of the charcoal filling the white canvas with frantic energy. He noticed the figure of himself was drawn with one continuous line, indicating a swiftness in the movement, but also bringing order to the chaos in the piece. While still analyzing the drawing, he found his eyes pulled to the piece hanging to his right. 

It was an elaborate painting of him standing at the console of the ship, with the pirate laying dead behind him. Standing over the dead pirate was the clear face of Ensign Irizi’ana’lonor. The thick paint traversed the canvas, the vivid colors standing out against each other as the individual brush strokes of the artist formed a fluid creation. The composition was perfectly balanced between the three figures, neither drawing more or less attention than the others. An air of stillness hung in the balance, like the calm before the storm. Thrawn stepped closer to marvel at the interplay of light and shadow on the Ensign’s combat uniform. Content with his analysis, he decided to move on. 

He continued his tour, stepping into a smaller room next to the main gallery. It housed a larger-than-life sculpture carved out of a single piece of exquisite white rock. The sculpture was of Ensign Irizi’ana’lonor striking Thrawn’s hand with the baton. Thrawn circled around it, examining it carefully. As he observed it more, he was able to notice how the texture the artist used to sculpt the Ensign had a rough surface. When examined even closer, he was able to see how the that figure was covered with hundreds of minor errors in the carving, indicating brashness, haste and carelessness in the execution of the shape. When he looked upon the sculpted form of himself, he saw the figure was smooth, like polished glass. Each curve and line was there for a strategic reason that contributed seamlessly to the whole. The combination of the two highlighted the contrasts in philosophies and strategies of the two combatants. Polished versus rough. Calculated versus reckless. Success and failure. He looked closely at where the artist had sculpted his mangled hand beneath the baton. Rather than feeling the unpleasant emotions of the past, Thrawn felt awe. He saw the refinement and elegance at the carving and how the closeness of the two elements in this part of the work highlighted the differences between the two combatants. While his hand lay distorted and maimed under the baton, it was still sculpted with fineness and grace. While the Ensign’s hand of rough-hewn angles and deficiencies showed nothing but ineptitude. He stepped back to contemplate the piece as a whole and took a deep breath. Content with his examination, he found his eyes drawn to the next room. 

Once he was inside the room, he saw there was no art, only a single chair in the center of the room. Filled with curiosity, he crossed the floor and sat down. As soon as he connected with the seat, he heard a swell of voices floating through his mind. Ensign Irizi’ana’lonor, Syndic Mitth’ala’ianaco, Admiral Ar’alani, the boarding party, the medical team. As he looked at the white wall in front of him, the words appeared. “Raise your hands, close your eyes.” As Thrawn obeyed the instructions he raised his hands and closed his eyes. Instantly, all the voices shifted into different instruments of the orchestra. With the subtle movements of his fingers, he was able to change the pitch, tone or volume of each instrument until it was orchestrated into perfection. Once he felt it was complete, he opened his eyes and the music stopped. He rose once more and strolled into the last room of the gallery. 

It was filled with dozens of small pictures printed on gossamer paper. He took a moment to take in the overall arrangement of the art before moving to inspect each one. Admiral Ar’alani delivering censure to the Iziri family; the look of horror on Syndic Mitth’ala’ianaco’s face as she was detained for her actions against the Ascendency; the fury during the hidden meeting with members of the Iziri and Mitth families as they exchanged blame for the failure of their plan to restore the Iziri family honor and eliminate Thrawn from the Mitth family in one fell swoop; the outrage of the Syndicure as they discussed the outcome of the Vaagari pirate operations. A cool breeze blew through the gallery, pulling the images off the wall and swirling them away. Thrawn smiled as he realized that he did not need to invest his intellect in political matters and strode out of the gallery. 

In his mind, he stepped outside into the snow garden filled with ice sculptures and met Thyia. They walked together in the garden and gazed up at the stars. He studied each star and whether brighter or less visible, each one contributed to the beauty of the constellations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this one because this is the type of therapy I do at work. It's called Accelerated Resolution Therapy. It's about being able to discharge your nervous system activations and rewrite the trauma. I've had to change some things for narrative purposes (not all the steps are included) but it paints the broad strokes of the kind of work I get to do every day with military vets.


	13. The Unseen

“I could say the same about yourself.” Thrawn countered. 

This time it was Thyia’s turn to be confused. 

“You say that I have a brilliant tactical mind when it comes to military matters, but I lack the capacity to apply the same tactics to interpersonal situations.” He explained. “You show conviction in your tactics and strategy in healing, but you show no such confidence when presenting those tactics to others.” 

She knew exactly what he was referring to. Earlier in the day, other senior healers had come to examine Thrawn’s progress. While explaining the technique she was using with Thrawn’s collarbone, she had become flustered, fumbled with her tools and was constantly apologizing for her shortcomings. 

Thyia groaned. “There’s no point. They won’t understand it anyway. It’s totally incompatible with the standard practice.” 

“Conformity is the enemy of growth.” Thrawn said with a grin. 

Thyia shook her head. “Easy enough for you to say. You deal with massive problems - the whole fate of the Ascendency. People listen to you. My work isn’t important. I just sit here and figure out how to heal one Chiss at a time.” She glowered. 

Thrawn cocked his head. “I am only one Chiss. Do you find me unimportant?” 

Thyia looked at him. “No, but--” 

Unimpressed by her lack of enthusiasm, he grasped her arm and yanked her closer to him. He placed her hand on his collarbone, her palm pushed firmly against his scar. 

“Do you find this unimportant?” He queried.

She knew what he was getting at, but was still too crestfallen to follow him. 

He slid his tunic open, took her other hand and put it on the center of his chest. He drank in the warm, healing energy. “Do you feel inconsequential when you do this?” 

She looked at his hands resting quietly on hers. “No.” 

His red eyes glittered at her. “Do you feel unimportant when you do this?” 

He leaned forward and caught her in a kiss. He explored her lips, delicately at first, with a passion growing inside of him with every movement. All of Thyia’s insecurities liquified and melted away from her. She leaned into him, urging her lips back against his. 

“But it’s just…” She whispered.

He silenced her as he seized her mouth with his again. His lips began to traverse her features as he spoke. 

“One grain of sand,” He murmured. “can tip the scales of war.” 

He pulled himself away and gazed at her passionately, never wanting to take his eyes off her beauty. “Attention to those small details is the difference between a result that is average and one that is stunning.” 

With a firm gentleness, he used his strong arms to intertwine his body with hers. He angled back and pulled her into the bed with him. Rather than continuing to explore her body with his mouth, he tenderly curled her next to him with her head resting on his bare chest. She nestled herself into his reassuring frame. 

“Do you want to know why the Iziri and Mitth families were ultimately unsuccessful in their strategy?” He rumbled. “They failed to take something into account.” Thrawn’s fingers absentmindedly toyed with her hair as he spoke. “Something they considered to be so small, so inconsequential, that it was beneath them to even consider.” He cupped her face in his hand. “They did not imagine such a masterpiece existed, nor that the entire outcome could turn based on its presence.” 

Finally understanding, Thyia was able to meet Thrawn’s gaze and allow his cool confidence and deep belief in her to permeate her heart and mind. They lay together as time stood still, drinking in each other’s presence, their breathing slowly coming into cadence. Thrawn’s eyes fluttered closed and he succumbed to a peaceful sleep.


	14. The Word

When Thrawn awoke, Thyia was once again gently manipulating his right hand. She stretched the tendons and massaged the muscles. She continued up his arm, finding knots in the muscle and using piercing fingertips to press into them, forcing them to submit and release. Thrawn pretended to stay asleep, enjoying the feeling of her hands moving over his body. She found one particularly large knot and dug into it. Despite his best efforts, he flinched. 

“Good morning Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” She chirped. “Did you have a restful sleep?” 

He eyed her. “Entirely suitable, given the circumstances.” 

“Excellent.” She announced. “Then today I think we will work on your tact.” 

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I am an extremely talented tactician. I hardly think that you would be able to improve that.” 

Thyia chuckled to herself. “That may be true, but it is well known that your tactics are woefully short on tact.” 

Thrawn nodded. “That has been a struggle in the past. But that was present prior to my current injuries.” 

She finished massaging out the last of the tension in his shoulder. “Not just repaired Thrawn.” She half-scolded. “Stronger for having been broken.” 

Thrawn was entirely unconvinced. “We may attempt just a goal, but I will warn you that Admiral Ar’alani and General Ba’kif have been instructing me in such matters for years.” His confidence slumped just a little. “And apparently there has been little effect.” 

Thyia laughed. “You do not ask a politician to repair a roof. You do not ask a warrior to do the job of a healer.” 

Thrawn inclined his head in agreement. He nodded as he resigned himself to her care. 

“Have they tried to teach you by having you observe and engage in trials in political situations?” 

“Yes.” Thrawn confirmed. 

Thyia grasped his left hand in hers, massaging it with her nimble fingers. “A battle is not won by attempting to strengthen what it weak.” She began to pull backwards on his pinkie finger. He tried to resist her with all his strength, but when she added even a small amount of pressure, his entire wrist gave way and she easily spun him into a wrist lock. 

She released him and began again. With a twinkle in her crimson eyes, she gripped his wrist firmly. “We strengthen what it already strong.” 

This time he was easily able to use his strength to overpower her grasp. He twisted his wrist free, grabbed at her arm and pulled her in close to him. 

“Very good.” She cooed. 

Thyia centered herself with him as she began. “While you a weak in political awareness, you are strong in military tactics. So we engage you on that level. Are you aware of the tactical lesson, ‘appear weak when you are strong’?” 

Thrawn nodded. 

“When would you use such a lesson?” She probed. 

His brow furrowed as Thrawn searched his memory for a good example. “During a skirmish with the Garwaains, I instructed my crew to feign that the ship had been damaged so that the enemy would develop false confidence and step directly into the trap that had been set.” 

Thyia smiled. “Exactly. Now, do you know the other half of that lesson? ‘Appear strong when you are weak’.” 

Thrawn nodded, but struggled to follow. “I fail to see how that military lesson can improve my … tact…“

“You have a weakness when it comes to knowing what to say in political situations. You become flustered and fail to choose the right thing to help navigate the situation.” She nodded gently as she laid it out for him. “So we use a military tactic to help you in those situations.” 

Now Thrawn was utterly confused. “But how do I appear strong in those situations where I do not know what is the correct thing to say?” 

Thyia leaned in, like she was telling Thrawn an important secret. “I’m going to arm you with the best weapon possible. It is a word that can be used in almost any situation, with almost any conversation. Whether you don’t know what to say, whether the person has outsmarted you, or whether the person has just said the dumbest thing you have ever heard. And the mere uttering of it will make everyone around you believe that you are incredibly strong and wise.” 

Thrawn was fascinated. “And what is that word?” 

Thyia’s smile was uncontainable. “That word is… ‘Perhaps’.” Her smile turned into a laugh. “Do you think you can use it? Do you want to try it out?” 

He smirked playfully at her. “Perhaps.”


	15. The Strategy

Thrawn and Thyia completed yet another circuit of the path outside the healing facility. As they walked, Thyia tossed a small ball to Thrawn and he would return it. Sometimes she bounced it off the ground, sometimes tossed it through the air and sometimes she would even ricochet it off a wall of a nearby building. The longer they walked, the hitch in Thrawn’s step became more evident as his left knee began to fatigue. 

“I fail to see how walking and catching a ball will improve my mental capacity.” Thrawn shot Thyia a disapproving look. “I am capable of far greater complexity.” 

Thyia bounced the ball off the ground near his feet so he had to step back to catch it successfully. “You question my tactics?” A mischievous light glinted in her eyes. 

He tossed the ball through the air back to her. “No, I simply observe that tactics without strategy is the noise before the defeat.” 

Thyia smirked as she continued walking. “Fine. Repeat after me. Sink, Frame, Sleeve.” She bounced the ball off the wall they were walking past, forcing Thrawn to have to twist to catch it.

“Sink,” He caught the ball, “frame, sleeve.” And bounced it back to her. 

It bounced high enough that she had to reach up high to grab it, her shoulder hitched slightly as she raised it. She had to spin her torso and jump to catch the ball. 

“Disk, spoon, pad.” She smiled again and threw the ball straight at his chest. 

He swiftly brought both hands up to catch it, but reminded himself of the rules - catching with his right hand only. He adjusted his position and his right hand was just barely able to grasp the small ball fast enough to prevent its escape. Once he had the ball firmly in his grip, he repeated back to her methodically. “Disk, spoon, pad.” He bounced the ball off the ground back to her. 

She caught it. “Door, hammer,” She tossed the ball high in the air towards him and raised an eyebrow. “Shower.” 

Thrawn had been confidently preparing to catch the ball, until he heard the last word. He swung his head towards her. “Shower?” 

The ball bounced on the ground in front of him and rebounded into the neighboring vegetation. 

A mischievous yet inviting smile crossed her face. ““The best strategy is the one that defeats your enemy’s strategy.”


	16. The Final Puzzle

Thyia and Thrawn had been at the table in his room for hours. They were playing Ishalon, a strategy game using various shapes and colors of tiles to create patterns. At the beginning, Thrawn had struggled to manipulate the small, thin tiles with his right hand. As the game continued, his finess had improved and he was able to make his moves more quickly. 

Thrawn moved one of the red squares in place above her yellow hexagon. “You have never told me why you chose to become a Healer.” 

She swiftly placed a purple diamond next to his red square and winked at him. “You never asked.” 

“Is it a secret?” His fingers fumbled with the green hexagon piece twice before he was able to lift it off the table and put it next to the red square. 

“A mystery.” She clarified as she contemplated her next move. “A final test of your brain and mind to show you are ready to return.” She tapped the table twice, indicating she was passing on her turn. 

Thrawn picked up another red square and set it above the purple diamond, creating a pattern of three. “When will I be given the clues?” 

Thyia placed a yellow hexagon above Thrawn’s red square. It created a complex, snaking pattern that traversed almost the entire board. She smiled broadly. “You have already been given them.” 

Thrawn inspected the intricate pattern she made with the tiles for a moment longer. “May I examine the subject of this mystery more closely?” 

Thyia pushed herself back from the table and raised an inviting eyebrow. Thrawn rose from his chair and crossed to where she was sitting. He stood close enough behind her so that she could feel the warmth of his chest behind her back. Thrawn slid his hand under the right-side collar of her tunic and began to explore her neck and shoulder with his firm grasp. He traced the line of her neck to her shoulder blade. She shivered at the feeling of his cool hands sliding against her skin. He continued his search, moving around to the front of her shoulder and across her chest. His fingers slid down the front of her tunic as his thumb continued to examine her, drifting across her collarbone before coming to a halt. He gently moved his hand back across the portion of collarbone before crouching behind her. 

“You had shattered your collarbone.” He whispered in her ear. “It was long enough ago that it was healed using the older technique, resulting in the permanent limitations in your reaching ability.” 

Thrawn’s left hand moved to her side, pulling at the strings of her tunic to loosen it, allowing his right hand further room to explore her body. “These types of severe injuries rarely occur in isolation.” 

His right hand pushed further down the front of her tunic, causing the cloth to tumble off her shoulder. With a hawkish gaze, he studied the right side of her exposed torso. His hand skimmed over the top of her breast, his fingers finding the large horizontal scar that spanned from her solar plexus to her back. Thrawn’s fingertips probed the old incision, tracing it across her body. 

“They are usually a result of significant trauma.” He echoed in her ear as he began to palm her ribcage. He first felt the hitch in Thyia’s breathing from the pressure of his hand, then as her breath quickened he applied deeper pressure until he found the dozens of slight imperfections in her ribs. He began to kiss and bite her neck as he continued. “Such as a crush injury.” 

Thrawn’s hand wandered down from her rib cage towards her waist. He lazily traced the curves of her hips before his hand slid under her scrub pants to explore her further. “Which is usually confirmed,” His strong hand moved down towards his final goal. “with evidence of injury to the pelvis.” This time is was Thyia’s turn to feel the warmth spread through her body under the weight of Thrawn’s hand. He moved his mouth back to her ear, gently nibbling it. “The only forces with that type of power are mechanical.” 

His left hand pulled the rest of her tunic free. It drifted down her body before coming to a rest on her chair. He began to stroke her chest, grazing her nipple just enough to make her gasp. “But no such injuries are evident on the left side.” Thrawn bit her on her neck, causing her whole body to arch into his firm grasp. He held her firmly in place and advanced on her willing frame. “Indicating the subject was sitting sideways in the vehicle when,” He gripped her possessively with his arms and her breath began to quiver. “impact occurred.” 

He turned his head to face her. “Am I correct in my assumptions thus far?” 

Thyia’s body was screaming out for more of him, but she forced her face to remain coy and simply nodded. 

Thrawn saw his opening and he pounced. He spun her chair around so they were facing each other. He took a moment to admire her gorgeous body, the interplay of light and shadow across her chest. The way her pebble sized nipples were erect, casting dark shadows on her breasts. Thyia sat patiently as her body ached for his touch to return. 

He breathed in deeply, preparing his tactics for the new assault. He leaned into her, pushing her legs open with his body. “But a blood Mitth is too valuable to venture out into space, which leaves only tunnel car.” He kissed her ear. “But crashes of those cars,” He moved himself to her collarbone and licked down its entire length. “are exceedingly rare.” Thrawn’s mouth continued its offensive downwards. Thyia’s chest swelled to meet his lips. As he captured her nipple in his mouth she cried out and pushed it further into his opening. He accepted the invitation willingly and began to suck and massage her into submission. Thyia’s whole body began to tremble and her breathing came in sharp gasps. 

“Unless,” Thrawn toyed with her in his mouth. “tampered with.” In one swift movement he cleared her pants off and threw them to the side. Her naked body positioned before him, ready for his onslaught. 

He paused. Torturing her with his absence. “But who would want to eliminate a blood Mitth?” He closed in again, this time raking her thigh with his teeth. “If the attempt was discovered by another ruling family,” He licked and kissed her skin as he drew closer to where she wanted him. “it would risk civil war.” Thrawn looked up and eyed Thyia’s face. He was achingly close to sending her over the edge. He drew away from her and began his work all over again on her opposite leg. “So that only leaves the Mitth family.” 

It took every ounce of restraint Thyia had to hold herself. She gripped the underside of her chair to prevent herself from intertwining her fingers into his blue-black hair and forcing him to end her torment. 

“But why…” He leisurely wandered his mouth across her leg. “would the Mitth want to kill one of their own blood?” His face was maddeningly close now. She could feel his hot breath on her. “Do you want me to tell you?” His glittering red eyes stayed fixed on his prize. 

Thyia panted hard in anticipation. “Yes.” 

Thrawn drove his tongue inside of her, setting off a rumbling moan in Thyia that rolled in waves through her entire body. Her sounds were raw and intense as he continued to ferociously raid her with his mouth. Her body strained to meet him, to drive him further inside of her. He braced a strong forearm across her hips, thrusting her back into the chair. She shuddered against his touch, ebbing closer and closer to oblivion as he continued to ravage her with his mouth. Then, all at once, as he continued to invade her, Thyia’s body exploded into pleasure. Stars burst in her view and every muscle in her body became stiff. She shook in his firm embrace until her entire body became limp. 

Without warning he lifted her up and out of the chair in one smooth movement. He strode confidently to the bed and delicately laid her among the sheets. Thrawn took her head in his warm grasp and pressed his forehead against hers. “Something about your power must have presented an unimaginable threat to their plans.” 

Thrawn draped his body over top of hers, carefully propped up on his elbows and knees to protect the delicate blossom laying beneath him. His muscles began to tremble from the effort. 

“You must have been trained in a life of politics, given how freely you spoke of Thurfian.” A small bead of sweat gathered on his brow and dripped down onto her chest. “And when you spoke of Admiral Ar’alani, you did not use her formal title, so you must have been at a very high level of the Syndicure. High enough to become friends with her.” 

Thrawn nudged Thyia’s legs apart with his hand. Her legs fell open and allowed him access to her. His finger lost no time finding its path inside of her, first to one knuckle, then two. 

“How deep,” He began rhythmically rocking his hand back and forth just inside the opening of her passageway. “within the halls of power had you become?” 

Thyia’s eyes rolled back in her head and her eyelids fluttered closed. “Very deep.” She murmured. 

Thrawn inclined his head, accepting her command. He drove his finger in as far as it would go, then he added more fingers, filling her as he explored ever more deeply inside of her. “And with such a valuable, well positioned blood Mitth,” He hiked her hips to the side to give him even better access to her. His fingers maintained their cadence as his thumb initiated its gentle offensive against her clit. She purred as her hips undulated under his calculated assault. Thrawn smirked at her confirmation of his progress. 

“if it was a specific action that you had taken incorrectly,” He slid his hand out from inside her. “doling out punishment would have been the simplest and most effective course of action.” 

Thyia whimpered and rocked her hips closer to his hand, inviting him to return. His hand whispered at her entrance, but refused to go further. “In such a situation, demotion or censure would more than suffice.” 

He locked eyes with Thyia, her burning red embers meeting the blazing inferno in his. “No.” He growled. “It must have been something that you refused to do.” 

Thrawn glided his length between her legs and began to tease her opening with himself. Her hips rose to meet him, trying to snare him within her. He met her, movement for movement, always just a breath away from her. 

“But you seem too eager to please those above you.” He taunted. “It could not have been a simple request.” 

He was rock hard as he continued to bait her with himself. He allowed the slightest contact before again pulling away. A small whine of protest escaped her lips. At that sound, an unstoppable passion ignited within Thrawn. He swore in Chenuh and dove for her breast. He used his lips, teeth and tongue to demolish what was left of any resistance in Thyia. It was unbearably hard for him to tear himself away to regain control of himself. He panted hard, flexing all the muscles in his command. Finally, he was able to resume his line of thought. “What is a Healer’s first obligation?” 

Thyia strained the synapses in her brain, willing them to fire with the answer. Desperate that the answer would bring her what she wanted most. “Do…” She moaned. “…no…harm.” 

The sounds of her breathless voice caused Thrawn to strain even harder to keep control of himself. He clenched his muscles tighter. “The Mitth family ordered you to do harm.” He growled. “To kill. In order to serve their political purposes.” 

She looked at him and nodded. “Syndic Mitth’ala’ianaco.” She confirmed. 

Thrawn lowered his mouth to hers as he lowered himself to her entrance. He deftly balanced himself on the edge of a knife as he persisted in his questioning. 

“Who was that tunnel car meant for?” He whispered. 

Thyia had no endurance left to resist him and gave up her secret willingly. “Ziara.” 

Thrawn pressed his forehead against hers. “And when you refused to force the future Admiral Ar’alani into the tampered tunnel car?” 

Thyia wound her legs around Thrawn’s hips, begging him. “The ruling was made. Her fate became mine.” 

Thrawn’s fury at the Mitth family politics rose in his chest. For them to try to destroy something so beautiful pained him. A guttural growl came from deep within him as he drove himself into Thyia. He surged forward, wanting to give her all the release she deserved. Thrawn started to thrust himself into her even faster and harder, turning her moans into one long howl of ecstasy. He steadied himself on one arm to free his hand to explore her velvety folds as he continued to grind into her. The touch of his hand sent a bolt of electricity through Thyia, pushing her over the edge. The aftershocks radiated through her body. Thrawn felt the shocks ripple inside of her as she gripped him even tighter. He involuntarily groaned at the sensation, desperate to hang on as long as he could. His strong hands grasped her flesh as he leaned in to her face. 

His voice betrayed his heartache. “They broke you.”

He dipped his mouth into hers as he caressed her with his full length, allowing her to feel him deep inside of her. The harder and deeper her took her, the more he drove away the thoughts of the terrible things that had been wrought upon her body and her mind. 

As Thyia’s mind slowly washed up on the shore of her senses, her eyes flittered open as she smiled defiantly. “But I mended it,” 

Her desire to protest had returned, but she could not pull herself away from the delicious feeling of him inside of her for long. In a swift move, she ensnared Thrawn’s arms and spun herself up on top of him. “and filled the cracks,” She savoured every inch of him as she settled herself back down on top of him and began to grind her hips into his. 

Thrawn grasped her hips with his strong hands and pulled her onto him up to the hilt. Thyia tensed all of her muscles, seizing Thrawn’s full length as she began rocking her hips. Thrawn responded with groping hands and they became one writhing mass of pleasure. He could not withhold himself any longer. 

She locked her eyes with his, calling him to her. “with iron.”

Her fiery gaze proved to be too much for him. Surrounded by the serene warmth streaming out of her, he relaxed the hold on his mind and fell into the abyss of pleasure. With a deep moan, he thrust up into her as he lost himself completely. Thyia beamed down at him as she watched the waves of delight crash upon him. She continued to ride across his cresting waves of pleasure as he turned her insides molten. As the exhilaration waned, they melted into each other’s embrace and collapsed down into the bed in a heap. 

Still breathless, Thrawn tenderly pulled the blankets up over her curves to protect her from the chill encroaching on their sweat-soaked frames. 

But there was one thing that still nagged at his mind. “Having survived and paid your debt, like the Skywalkers, you could have retired to the Mitth family homestead. Why would you leave that behind to become a Healer?” 

Thyia nestled deeper into Thrawn’s warm body. “I did think that at first. What options are there for a political apprentice who can no longer be trusted in family politics?” Her fingers mapped out graceful lines across his bare chest. “But as I was healing, I shared a room with a retired Mitth Skywalker. She had broken her leg when she slipped on the ice. Instead of retiring she had decided that she would choose a new path in life for herself.” 

Thrawn cocked his head to look at Thyia’s soft face. “An unusual choice for a retired Skywalker.”

Instead of returning his gaze, Thyia continued to trail lazy patterns across his chest. “She said that she had met a cadet who had changed her mind.” Whenever her fingers met an old battle scar along her hand’s path, she would change course and move her hand across the well-worn flesh. “He told her that all of us face a variety of paths, but we all have the power to choose among them. To choose which one is right for you.” 

Thrawn’s interest was once again piqued. “Did she ever tell you that cadet’s name?” 

Thyia’s hand stopped and rested itself on his chest. The familiar warmth radiating into him. She shook her head. “No. I never thought to ask.” 

Thrawn stayed silent as Thyia’s breathing continued to relax and slacken, until she had fallen asleep. Thrawn marvelled at the universe’s strategy laid out before him. The outcomes of a war are often so carefully planned, but even the greatest of warriors cannot foresee what factors will bear the outcome. 

He remembered that day, when as a cadet, he had spoken with the Skywalker Al’iastov. The 13 year old girl had just learned that her Third Sight was waning and she would no longer be a Skywalker, the only life she had ever known. He had spoken to her from his heart, without any strategy or tactics. And those words had apparently meant enough to that Skywalker that she shared them with the broken Syndic that she spent time with during her rehabilitation on Naporar. Those words had then sent Thyia on her path to become a Healer. Then for years, the paths of the Healer and the Cadet continued to diverge throughout their careers. Until a random assignment had been given to that Healer. And so that single miscalculation, that single ignored variable in their strategy, would result in Thyia’s work restoring him. Her healing allowing him to see the final pattern and ultimately defeat the family politics that threatened to undo them both. He quietly basked in the awareness, able to see each individual point and also the greater picture it created when he stepped back and observed the entire work. 

Greatest is the victory that requires no battle.


	17. The Epilogue

Not long after that night, General Ba’kif’s message arrived at Naporar, recalling Thrawn back to the fleet. Thyia and Thrawn had said their goodbyes and she wished him good hunting. 

His shuttle had almost reached Csilla to rendezvous with the General when Thrawn reached into his bag to pull out his questis to prepare for his arrival. The back of his hand grazed against something foreign. He pulled it out. It was a small bowl that had previously been broken, but now the cracks were filled with iron. The faint scent of Aura Blossom drifted up towards him. He breathed it in deeply, the soothing warmth once again washing over his body and was content.


End file.
